Another Shot at Scarring the Micronations
by LadyOfThePens
Summary: At the meeting, Sealand is confused by people laughing at a certain number. Can't anyone explain what's so funny?


**Hello person in front of this text! Feel very happy to read this story, which is totally not strange at all. (except it really is quite strange) I have used a bunch of Human Names, such as;**

**Lizzie/Elizabeth = Wy**

**Paul = Hutt River**

**Johan = Ladonia**

**Hansi = Kugelmugel**

**Michael = Molossia**

**Marcello = Seaborga**

**Tomoe = Niko Niko Republic**

**Have fun, I guess.**

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As usually, World meetings were a very tiresome thing; and it usually took quite some time to get through all of the subjects before the meeting was already over. Some had already had to leave, being dismissed for not behaving (although Hansi's decision to start painting the wall to resemble his home had been overlooked, or just not noticed.) After the dismissing of Yong Soo and Natalia more set on marrying her brother than usually, the meeting had been going smoother than before, although, of course, still not without interruptions.

"And now for point sixty-nine on the list; International Relations. I-" Arthur was rudely cut of by loud snickering from some of the males attending the meeting, as well as a particularly bemused giggle from a certain Hungarian, cheeks flushed. "You bloody wankers! It's not even that funny!" he snapped, throwing an eraser at Alfred, who had the bad luck to be the closest to him.

"I agree with them." Kiku admitted, hanging his head. "It _is _rather amusing, given the subject and number." Brushing some hair from his face, the Japanese blushed.

"Why is everyone laughing at sixty-nine? I don't think sixty-nine is very funny at all." Came the not-so-discrete voice of one Peter Kirkland from his seat by Berwald and Tino, both of them looking very bothered and annoyed at the subject being brought up like this. "I can think of _hundreds _of things that are more fun than sixty-nine. Seriously, why are you still laughing at sixty-nine?"

"Oh, you don't know? My heart sings!" Being dramatic and French in general, Francis stood up from his chair, swooping over to the boy. "I can tell you, if you want to. I can show you, if you'd prefer that, mon ami."

At this point, Tino had covered Peter's ears and was glaring evilly at Francis. Anyone who still remembered his fighting quite violently against Ivan in their past knew that an upset Tino was something not very good at all. Francis might sometimes act as though he didn't remember, but he did remember, far too well, and wasn't going to risk his `beautiful Frenchness´ by upsetting Tino further.

"Back to order, please…" Arthur made sure to slap Francis, just for good measure, before continuing the meeting, which a certain lot of children now had stopped listening at all.

"I bet they won't tell us because it's something only those who are actually allowed at the meetings can know. If Francis tells us, we'll probably be recognised as equals by the others." Peter proclaimed, whispering to his friends.

Johan, the most high-tech of his friends shrugged. "If it's that much of a deal to a wee brat like you, we could just google it. _I _don't have to know, I'm not desperate like you."

"That would be cheating, wouldn't it?" Making a gesture that sent wet paint flying on all close by, Hansi frowned at Johan. "I don't recall cheating being an art." As expected by the little artist, he wouldn't want to do anything that couldn't be related to some kind of art.

"My, my, you youths are quite eager to learn, aren't you?" the somewhat monarchy Paul commented, smiling slightly at his younger sister where she sat, cross-armed, trying not to listen to the conversation. "But, are you sure that this might be a knowledge you should be aiming for? Surely, there must be other things to learn. I propose we procrastinate this."

"Hell no." Michael, easily annoyed around his group of self-proclaimed friends, glared at the wannabe prince. "I'm fucking dying to know what it means. If they won't tell us, it has to be fucking good, right?"

The others nodded in agreement, even if Paul made a small pass about how Michael shouldn't use such language around ladies, gesturing towards Lizzie as he did.

"What do you think, miss Elizabeth? Should we ask someone, like Francis, after the meeting?" Peter addressed the girl, hoping she might lighten up a bit if he was polite for once.

Lizzie looked at him in surprise. "Why are you asking me? Wouldn't you do it even if I told you no?" she sighed. "I suppose we could ask him, if you really want to know."

"Yay! Let's go ask mio fratello!" Marcello suggested, nodding towards the younger of his older brothers, idly doodling at his papers instead of paying attention to what was being said at the meeting. "He's _really _smart, so he probably knows what it is."

So they did, stealthily crawling under the table in order not to draw any attention to themselves, failing and being discovered by their more well-behaved friend Tomoe, who decided on not going with them, feeling that he might not want to know. Apart from that, there was no trouble in getting to Feliciano's chair. No, the real problem was getting him to join them without raising too much suspicion.

"Ve~! I dropped… I dropped my, um…" he threw his pen on the floor, seeming proud of figuring something so clever out. "I dropped my pen, may I get it?"

"Why are you asking permission for something that stupid. Of course you can pick your pen up." Ludwig, Feliciano's closest friend hissed at him, trying to follow what was being said about International Relations.

"You do not have to be so harsh, Ludwig-san," Kiku pointed out. "There is no need to upset Feliciano-kun, is there?"

The German grunted an apology, receiving a small hug from Feliciano, before the latter dived in under the table to talk with the gathered children and teenagers.

"Ciao everyone~! Ve, it's kind of dark under the table… Anyway, what do you want, fratello?" Feliciano sat down more comfortably on the floor, grinning happily at his younger brother.

"My friends were wondering if you know why everyone started laughing at sixty-nine. I hoped you'd know, 'cause you're really smart, aren't you?" Obviously believing his brother to be an intelligent person, Marcello beamed back, waiting for the answer.

There was, indeed, an answer, but not from who they'd expected it from. Instead, a blonde head French person had sneaked up at them, now giving them his most charming smile.

"Do you want to know, mon petit enfants?" Francis grinned.

"Actually, yes. We are _rather _curious about what it means. Would you please tell us?" Paul enquired, nodding in recognition at the French.

His grin widening and became slightly creepy as he told the gathered group exactly what was so funny about sixty-nine. By the time he had finished telling them (about the same time Arthur had reached point eighty-four on his list; Why Scones Should Not be Frowned Upon, and Other Helpful Things) all of them had looks varying between horror and absolute disgust.

"What's funny about _that_?" Peter cried, looking as though he'd lost all faith in the world.

"Why'd you have to ask Francis of all people? You nitwit! I knew you suck; I've known it all the time." Hastily pulling himself and whoever was the closest to him away from Peter, Johan yelled at his friend.

Not too surprisingly, this got the attention of all the adults in the room. After learning what Francis had told them, several had to be taken out of the room by a more sensible person, which somehow resulted in the ending of the meeting, without Arthur getting to finish his talk about Why Scones Should Not be Frowned Upon, and Other Helpful Things. Peter and his friends, except Tomoe, never mentioned this event again. Tomoe used it to tease his friends, but eventually stopped when they told him what Francis had told them.

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**This was very funny in my own head...**

** If you're favouriting this, you have to rewiev. Othervise, I'll eat my own pillow, and we wouldn't want that, now, would we?**

**Long live the micronations, for they shall rules this world!**


End file.
